"Some truths don't burn the world. They just burn us."
Kaelen woke to the smell of ash.
It clung to his nose, thick and choking, even though the fire in their room had burned low to glowing embers. His breath caught. For a moment, he wasn't in the quiet tavern room in Elandra—he was back in the ruins, heat rushing at his face, the dream still burning in the edges of his vision.
The Tower again. That same voice. That name—Seraphine—repeated like a whisper behind his teeth.
He sat up slowly. Selene wasn't in the room.
The blankets where she'd lain were still creased from her form, and her dagger was missing from the table.
Kaelen rose, wrapping his cloak around his shoulders. The morning was just beginning, gray light seeping through the cracked shutters. He made his way down the stairs barefoot, careful not to wake the sleepy floorboards.
The tavern was mostly empty—save for the innkeeper, polishing mugs and humming something soft and wordless, and a single other soul seated in the far corner.
Selene.
She was already dressed, boots dusty, hood pushed back slightly. A mug of something steaming sat untouched in front of her. Her eyes flicked toward him before he even reached her table.
"You dreamt again," she said.
Kaelen paused, hand tightening on the back of a chair. "How do you know?"
"You look like someone who ran through fire and didn't stop long enough to check if he'd survived it."
He sat down. "I saw you again. In front of the Tower."
Selene went still. "Me… or her?"
"…You," Kaelen said slowly. "But not like this. You were different. Powerful. And sad."
Selene didn't speak for a while. Her fingers curled around her cup.
"That name you whispered last night," she said finally. "Seraphine. Where did you hear it?"
Kaelen met her eyes. "In the dream."
Her voice dropped. "If you know that name… there's no turning back anymore."
"I'm not trying to turn back."
"Then you need to understand what it means."
She glanced around. The innkeeper was gone now, and only the sound of a ladle clinking from the kitchen remained. Selene leaned in.
"Seraphine was a name given only to those bound to the First Glyph. A Sigil of Light. Of Revelation. It's not just a name—it's a role. A chain."
"You were her," Kaelen said softly. "Weren't you?"
Selene didn't answer. She only looked at him with that same ancient weariness—the kind of tired that didn't come from walking too far, but from holding back too long.
They left Elandra that afternoon, heading north along a cracked old trade road overgrown with moss and silence. The forest around them pressed close—oaks and whisper pines, thick with fog. Kaelen walked beside Selene, both quiet, both thinking too loudly to speak.
Around midday, Kaelen asked, "Do you still carry it?"
Selene looked at him, brow arched. "Carry what?"
"Whatever that old name means to you."
"…Sometimes," she said. "Sometimes I bury it. Sometimes I wear it like a knife."
Kaelen gave a short nod. He understood that.
They camped in the shadow of a ridge that night. The wind howled through the trees, and Selene had to light a glyph-flare to keep the cold from creeping into their bones. The sigil she used wasn't one Kaelen recognized.
He sat beside her, close enough for warmth, but not quite touching.
"Teach me," he said.
She glanced at him. "What?"
"That sigil. That kind of fire."
"You're still in Ember Tier."
"So?"
Selene hesitated. Then reached into her cloak and withdrew a stone tablet—small, worn smooth at the edges, with faded etchings that looked older than the trees around them.
"Show me your glyph," she said.
Kaelen hesitated, then pulled off his glove. The mark on his palm pulsed faintly—like silver ink trapped in glass. The Sigil of Veritas.
Selene studied it. "Truth magic isn't meant to burn. It reveals. It strips away."
"I don't want to strip anyone," Kaelen muttered.
"No," she said quietly. "But the world will strip you. Better you know how to wield it."
She took his hand and pressed her thumb gently against the center of the glyph. A rush of warmth bloomed through him—sharp, sudden, and startling.
"You feel that?" she asked.
Kaelen nodded, swallowing. Her fingers hadn't left his.
"That's resonance. Our magic frequencies are aligning."
He pulled his hand away a second later, heart thudding too fast in his chest.
Selene exhaled, and for a moment, her face betrayed something—longing, or maybe fear. Or both.
"We'll train tomorrow," she said. "For now, get some sleep."
Kaelen nodded, but as he lay down, he knew sleep wouldn't come easy.
Not when the shape of her fingers still lingered against his skin like fire.